You Coulda' Just Said
by ThomE.Gemcity-06
Summary: This is an AU twist to the speech that Nancy gave when she found Shane masterbating to her picture. This is a Shane/Andy, slash, incest fic!


**a/n: Okay, so I am newly introduced to Weeds, I've only seen about five episodes (early in the series). So because it's only on Wednesday and I'm really impatient, I went on youtube to see if I could find some episodes, I couldn't but I did find clips. And one clip I found was of where Nancy gave Shane a talk after she found him masturbating to her picture. I was kind of put out that for Weeds, there are no Shane/Andy fics in sight. So this is my first Weeds fic, please bear in mind that I have only seen five episodes, so it could either turn out to like shit or it could be real good.**

**You Coulda' Just Said**

"_Sweetie I wanna talk to you about—I'm just gonna throw this out there, I think it's a little, um, I don't wanna say that it's weird—maybe another word for weird without all of the connotations of weird, like, uh, peculiar, maybe or eccentric or . . . how about quirky, okay? It's quirky—a little quirky to masturbate to picture of your mother_."

Shane couldn't believe that this was happening right now, it was bad enough Nancy had caught him masturbating, but for her to think it was a picture of her? He knew what kids called him at school and what Silas said about him—that he was a mamma's boy. He would have liked to deny the fact, but what was so wrong with him being loyal to him mother and his family? Shane found nothing wrong with that, he just didn't like the label; he hated labels.

When he had gotten home an hour and a half ago, no one was there; the house was empty. He didn't have any homework, there was nothing on TV, he didn't feel like reading or watching a movie, he had already beat all of the video game in his possession several times over—so what else was a bored, hormonal teenage boy who was still a virgin supposed to do in all that free time?

Maybe he could have prepared better; like shut his door all the way and lock it. Maybe he didn't even need the picture, he could have turned on some music to drown out his moans, or he could have simply done it in the bathroom. Either way it had happened and maybe he didn't really need the picture when he could see the image so clearly in his mind.

"_To have this sexual kind of relationship or connection or whatever to these photographs because they don't necessarily look like me since you know me as me now, and not me as me then. And according to Frond a lot of people want to have sex with their mothers, and it's normal in the planning stages, but let's just stop there_."

Shane pulled the shawl from the back of the couch over his head, covering him from head to toe. Should he tell her? Would the truth do more damage than good? Well, Shane didn't see any good in this situation, whatever he said, he was probably going to get grounded or something, or sent to a hospital—Nancy was probably going to make his see a shrink or something; and that wasn't going to solve anything. It was bad enough that she thought he was masturbating to her picture, but the fact was Nancy just happened to be in the picture too. He had folded over her picture, because doing what he did was weird enough, but with his mother would have been beyond weird for him.

"_And I realize that there's allot of hormonal compulsions, some of it beyond your control and it's nothing terrible or unnatural or anything we need to talk about in gory detail, because sex is great and you should have sex safely with playboy or penthouse or jugs if you're so inclined to that particular body part_."

It was eating at his brain, the fact that Nancy kept saying having sex with your mother. It was too much; he thought if he just let her get it all out, then that would be that. But she just kept saying it, and saying and then saying it some more. There was only so much that Shane could take and he was nearing the edge.

"_You should go ahead and fantasize about having great sex, but you should probably avoid the areas that include having great sex with your mother. And I mean things happen it's understandable, you hide them in Sammy Davis biography because who's going to look there. It happens but it shouldn't happen any more, and we can swear—and I swear to never ever speak of this again ._ . . ."

Shane couldn't take it anymore and he just snapped. He threw the shawl away and jumped to his feet. "It wasn't your picture!" he shouted at her.

Nancy paused, and looked at her youngest in surprise. "What?"

"I said; it wasn't you who I was looking at!" he eyes were squeezed shut, and his hands clenched at his side.

"But . . ." she sorta trailed off, not knowing what to say and confused. "But the photo . . ."

"If you cared to look, you would have noticed that you weren't the only one in that photo!" he seemed to be shouting allot, and he couldn't seem to stop himself despite the fact that this was something he would rather certain people didn't hear.

Nancy looked at him for a moment, and her eyes widened as she realize. "Oh." she said faintly. And then, "Oh, Shane! You—you can't do that."

"What?" he exclaimed. He slowly started to back away from her. "So it's okay that I can do it to your picture, but if I do it with anyone else, it's wrong?" Shane turned away from Nancy and her frozen expression, and went back to his room; slamming the door shut and twisting the door knob to lock it.

He flopped onto his bed with an explosive sigh, his finger tapping his stomach as he stared at the cracked ceiling. Slowly his hand trailed downward until his finger tips touched the little patch of exposed flesh from his ridden up tee. He knew that he shouldn't do it, should at least hold off for a while, but he was riled up and he needed something to calm himself down. His finger tips teased the sensitive flesh just above his belt, his nails scraping just beneath.

Shane bit his bottom lips as he unclasped his belt and undid his zipper. He slipped his hand under the band of his boxers, and grasped his penis; slowly moving his hand up and down in a leisurely, yet firm motion. He moaned ask his dick grew hard and his free hand grasped at the sheets beneath him. Shane didn't know when it had started to happen; maybe it was before his dad died, or maybe it was after. All he knew was that he has been doing it for a long while and he knew that despite the fact that Nancy now knew, he was still going to do it.

Shane's eyes slipped closed as he worked his hand harder in the confined space of his boxers. He knew that if he pulled his boxers and pants down that he would get more leverage, but he couldn't stop now; not when he was so close. He panted, his back arching slightly as sweat collected on his brow; so close.

Shane let out a gasp and his eyes snapped open as a hand laid on his; stopping his strokes.

"_Andy_," he said faintly.

Andy sat on the edge of the bed next to Shane, his hand still holding the teen's wrist still, his own wrist resting lightly on the head of Shane's hard cock. He looked down at the shocked and flushed Shane, a grin split across his face. Shane himself tried to stroke his cock, but Andy wouldn't allow it. Another teen would have stopped immediately, but that wasn't Shane; he wanted to jerk off even more now so that the person of his lust was in his presents. Shane had accepted long ago that he could never truly be with Andy—he was Shane's uncle after all, his blood.

"Your mom called me," he told Shane, looking down at the teen with half lidded eyes as he shifted his hand ever so slightly and a shiver traveled through Shane and went straight to his achingly hard cock. "Told me to talk some sense into you," he finally let go of Shane's wrist and stood, walking around to the foot of the bed.

Shane's hand twitched, and his fingers tremble as he forced himself to not start stroking; his dark eyes trailed after the older man, waiting in anticipation—this seemed like it could go either way, but with Andy you could never tell.

"But I think you have sense enough." he looked Shane in the eyes the whole time, as he grabbed the cuff of his jeans and gave them a tug.

They can off, the tightness of them caused them to cling to his boxers—and suddenly he was naked from the waist down in front of Andy, his hand still wrapped around his throbbing cock. Suddenly Andy grabbed his ankles and tugged him forward, Shane giving a yelp of surprise as he was dragged to the edge of the bed; his hand leaving his penis in the process. His legs over the edge, and Andy pushed them apart as he knelt down between them.

Shane tried to sit up, still shocked beyond words, but Andy laid a hand against his chest and pushed him flat again. His hand slowly trailed down Shane's chest, his other hand on his pale thigh; slowly trailing up before it grasped the base of Shane's erect cock. Shane let out a gasp, arching slight at the contact; the only thing keeping him in place was Andy's hand which hand now slid under his shirt. No one had ever touched his dick except for himself, and the only reason that Shane didn't come then and there was by the pure fact that he wanted Andy to have his way with him.

Shane's toes curled as Andy sent him a smirk before he ducked his head; taking all of Shane into his mouth. Shane had never had a blow job before, so he didn't know what to expect; but he did know that Andy knew what he was doing. There was tongue and there was suction and there was stroking, with some more tongue and even vibrations. All Shane knew was that his hand found itself tangled in Andy's hair, and the sound coming from his mouth was the sounds that he had heard coming from the porno's that he watched.

The tip of Andy's tongue slid across his slit and Shane's hips lips from the bed as he came. Andy didn't jerk back and instead he swallowed every last drop, he even licked his lips as he pulled his head back up. Shane lay there panting, his face flushed; he was sure that this had to be a dream, one of his many fantasies. His hand worked against the sheets, his fingers trembling slightly as they reflexively worked.

Andy stood, his own cock half hard from just the sight of Shane lying sedated on the bed, half naked. But his would have to wait for the moment; when Shane wasn't in shock. He leaned across the bed and over Shane—making sure that his entrapped cock brushed against Shane's—kissing him heatedly on the lips. Shane kissed him back, moaning in the process and Andy slipped in a little tongue.

Shane reached up and tangled his finger in Andy's hair, pulling him even closer. Andy pressed up against him, and he could feel Shane already starting to grow hard again. They pulled apart for breath, their lips still close enough to brush against each other and their breath to mingle.

"_Fuck me_," Shane told him, his breath but a gasp, his eyes half lidded and his pupils blown with lust.

Andy smirked against his lips, he gave Shane another kiss before he rolled off of him. He lifted up his hips as he undid his jeans, and slid them and his underwear off, kicking them from his feet. He turned his head to Shane, looking at him as he reached over and took the teens hand; guiding it to his half-mast. He wrapped Shane's fingers around before silently instructing the teen to start stroking, he kept their fingers entwined. A shudder past through Shane as he reached for his own semi hard cock, Andy's other hand meeting him there.

They stroked each other to full mast and Shane turned on his side, getting a better view of Andy. His heart rate was fast, all of his blood rushing to his erect penis. Even if this were a dream, for that he was uncertain, it would have been the best one that he had ever had. Not able to take it anymore, Shane tore his hands away from their cocks and jumped Andy.

Andy grinned as he laughed, "_You coulda' just said_."

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><p><strong>note: I hoped you liked this ShaneAndy fic, and hopefully you didn't think that it was shit. Please review; I wanna know what you think of the fic and whether or not you liked this pair.**


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